


Hidden Music

by RedShirtWriter34567



Series: Hidden Talents [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Early Mornings, M/M, Musical Instruments, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:41:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22552696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedShirtWriter34567/pseuds/RedShirtWriter34567
Summary: Aziraphale discovers that Crowley plays an instrument.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Hidden Talents [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686361
Comments: 5
Kudos: 108





	Hidden Music

"Crowley?" Aziraphale asked sleepily, rolling over onto his side and stretching his hand out.

He expected to find the warm, smooth skin of his demon, sleeping peacefully beside him. Instead, his hand brushed across rumpled sheets, warm from the early morning sunlight streaming into the room through the half-drawn curtains. The angel frowned and sat up, the blankets falling away from his naked form, revealing love bites sprinkled across his belly and along his shoulders. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. Crowley was nowhere to be seen, which was highly unusual since the demon was not a morning person in the slightest. Aziraphale was usually the one who rose first thing in the morning, cooking breakfast or reading in bed while Crowley cuddled against him. Aziraphale left the bed and located his dressing gown, still crumpled on the floor by the bed. 

He pulled it on and tied the sash before leaving the bedroom in search of his demon. He walked downstairs and into the kitchen of their South Downs cottage. A fresh mug of tea was sitting on the counter, making Aziraphale smile, but no Crowley was standing by the stove or sipping coffee while looking out the window at the splendid garden out front. Aziraphale picked up the tea and took a sip, moving from the kitchen to the living room. Crowley wasn't there either. The angel frowned, now slightly worried. Did Crowley leave for some reason? Aziraphale checked the little hooks that hung by the front door and saw with relief that Crowley's keys were still there.

'At least that means he's still here somewhere,' the angel thought, sipping more tea.

Just as Aziraphale was about to head to Crowley's plant room, he stopped when he heard a faint sound drifting through the air. Was that....music? Aziraphale froze, trying to pinpoint where the music was coming from. After a minute, he realized it was coming from Crowley's study, next to his plant room. Aziraphale walked down the hall, following the music, which sounded vaguely familiar now. He located the door to Crowley's office and found that it was ajar slightly, allowing the music to flow out like a steady stream of water. He pushed it open farther, peaking inside, and what he saw made his heart melt. 

In the middle of Crowley's office, standing out sharply against the austere walls and rug-covered marble floor was a gleaming black piano. Crowley was seated on the bench in front of it, wearing only a pair of black sleep pants and bare feet. A golden ray of sun shone through the window, forming a halo around the demon's head of messy red hair. His back was to Aziraphale, and his elegant, long-fingered hands moved delicately over the keys. He played with such calmness and skill. Aziraphale had always thought that Crowley would make a wonderful pianist, but he had no idea that it was true. He crept further into the room, staying quiet as to not disturb Crowley, who was so lost in the music that he didn't notice the angel. The song lasted another minute before Crowley finally stopped, cracking his knuckles with a satisfied sigh. 

"That was beautiful, darling," Aziraphale said.

The demon let out a startled squeak and turned around on the bench, snake-like pupils wide with surprise. Aziraphale laughed at loud at the demon's surprise. Crowley blushed, looking both embarrassed and sheepish at the same time. 

"You snuck up on me," he grumbled. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," Aziraphale said, sitting down on the bench next to Crowley. "I woke up and you were gone. I was worried you'd left for some reason until I heard the music."

"Sorry," Crowley said, running a hand through his hair. "I thought I'd shut the door."

"You don't have to apologize, my love," Aziraphale told him. "I enjoyed listening to you play. You're quite talented."

"Really?" Crowley smiled shyly, golden eyes soft. 

"Of course," Aziraphale said with a smile. "I'd always thought you'd make a wonderful musician, but I had no idea you played. When did you learn?"

"In the 60s," Crowley admitted. "After you told me I went to fast for you. I needed a different outlet." He ran his hand lightly over the keys. "I kind of taught myself how to play."

Aziraphale's smile faltered at Crowley's admission. He would never forget the sadness and disappointment on the demon's face, tartan thermos in hand, his hair aflame by the neon lights. 

"I'm so sorry," Aziraphale said softly, taking one of Crowley's hand in his, interlacing their fingers. "I only distanced myself to protect you."

"I know, Angel," Crowley whispered, tilting Aziraphale's chin up so their eyes could meet. "I was trying to protect you, too."

They shared a chaste kiss. Crowley's mouth was soft and warm, tasting like dark coffee and freedom. Aziraphale threaded his fingers through Crowley's soft, fiery locks while the demon's hands cupped his face, stroking his cheeks tenderly. When they pulled apart, Aziraphale traced the snake sigil on the side of Crowley's face.

"I love you, Crowley," he whispered.

"I love you, too, Aziraphale," Crowley whispered back. 

Aziraphale looked over at the piano. "Would you mind playing for me?"

"Of course, Angel," Crowley said with a grin. "What would you like to hear?"

"What was that song you were playing earlier?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley's blush returned full force. "It's.....a song I wrote years ago. You might have heard me humming it now and again."

"That's why it sounded familiar," Aziraphale said. "What's it called?"

"Ineffable," Crowley mumbled, face redder than his hair. "It was the only thing I could come up with."

Aziraphale chuckled, tucking some of Crowley's hair behind his ear. "I think that's a perfect title, dearheart."

Crowley smiled, kissing Aziraphale's nose before facing the piano again. As his fingers moved elegantly across the keys, Aziraphale rested his head in the divot between the demon's neck and shoulder, letting the soothing melody wash over him like a warm breeze.


End file.
